


Talking is Overrated

by DobbyTheLiv



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Bobby SInger - Freeform, Dean Winchester - Freeform, I really hate John, Sadness, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:44:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobbyTheLiv/pseuds/DobbyTheLiv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thinks back on his childhood (or lack thereof) and some of his struggles</p><p> </p><p>I got this off a prompt on FB!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking is Overrated

"You know…" Dean said softly, coloring on the white paper gently. "I'm thinking you can hear me…you just don’t wanna talk." The derpy little kid still said nothing, scribbling on his paper with a dark green crayon. The one or two art classes Dean had bothered to go to back in high school flashed back into his brain just for a moment and he noticed the dark color scheme the kid was using. Dark reds, greens, bold lines of black. Dean did not really remember what the significance of that stupid color thing he leaned was (he was too busy ogling over…what was her name… oh yeah, Cassie…Kristy…maybe Katie?--when the class was going on), but he was pretty sure that his teacher mentioned something about darker colors indicating a deep sadness. He gave his head a slight shake, bringing his mind back to the present. "So… this is my family." He said showing the kid his drawing. "That’s my dad…my mom…and my nerdy brother."  
The boy did not even look up and Dean swallowed, his mind suddenly flashed back to when he was younger, right after his mom died.  
************************  
"Dean…Dean?" Dean jumped a little and looked up at Bobby. The older man picked him up gently. "Aw you poor little kid." he sighed shaking his head a little as he tucked the little boy into bed and walked downstairs. Dean slipped out and tip toed to Sammy's room, right next to the kitchen, when he heard his name mentioned.  
"…He hasn't talked in months," John said softly, leaning back and sipping his beer. "I can't get him to say a word. I don’t know why."  
"Oh maybe it’s the fact he watched his mother die, and his father immediately told him that the monsters in his closet were real." Bobby said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you suppose that might have anything to do with it?"  
"He needs to snap out of it," John said taking another swig of beer, emptying his third bottle and grabbing another out of the package next to him.  
"John, he's a kid!" Bobby exclaimed in disbelief. "He's gone through a horrific experience, you can't just expect him to--"  
"I need him to, Bobby. He needs to start training so he doesn’t get himself killed. You of all people should know that." John snapped. Bobby shook his head slowly.  
"Look, John… I know that losing Mary hurt. But… you can't start turning into the drill sergeant--"  
"I don’t tell you how to run your garage, Bobby. Don’t tell me how to raise my kids." John growled and Dean shivered swallowing hard. Sam stirred and started whining a little and Dean immediately unlatched the wall of the crib and climbed onto the mattress and pulled Sam into his arms. He smiled a little and touched Sammy's cheek.  
"I'm scared, Sammy." He whispered. Sammy snuggled into him whining a little. "I know I'm supposed to be brave, like Dad, 'nd strong 'nd not a-scared of anthin' but I dunno know how. Dad says I gotta man up, but even talking is scary. …But don't you worry, Sammy." He whispered. "I'm gonna take good care of you. Ain't nothing gonna happen when I'm here." The door opened further and John looked in.  
"Dean? You should be asleep." Dean took a deep breath.  
"Sammy was whining… I didn’t want to bother you and Bobby." Johns eyes widened and he grinned a little and ruffled up Dean's hair.  
"That’s my boy. Go back to bed ok?"  
"Yes sir." Dean swallowed and ignored the triumphant look that John gave Bobby as he walked back to bed.  
***************************  
Dean blinked and shook his head a little, pushing his hair back and hiding his feelings, as usual, as he knelt down next to the kid. "When I was little," he said softly. "I saw something...really scary. I didn’t think anyone would believe me… but if you saw something like that…and told me….I'd believe you." Unsurprisingly, the kid did not answer. He set the picture down. "See ya around, kid." He said and stood shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked away, hunching his shoulders against the sudden burst of cold air that seemed to attack him as soon as he moved away from the child. He tried to get his mind off of the memories of what would happen when he did not talk… the smell of the beer in the air whenever his dad came back from a successful hunt; the belt whizzing through the air as he tried to scream and yell for his father to stop, but no noise, no strangled cry, nothing happened; the marks he would try and hide when he would go to school or Bobby's the next day. He cleared his throat as he approached the kid's mom and Sam, and he finally succeeded in shoving the memories where they belonged--a dark corner of his mind with all the secrets no one else knew.


End file.
